


The Artist

by Honeyhan_123



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeyhan_123/pseuds/Honeyhan_123
Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.Warnings will be added as the series progresses - smut in later chapters
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. I

He couldn’t believe it. 

Even watching the flyer hang from the board on the wall with his own two eyes, Steve could barely remember the conversation with Nat that led to this moment as he was sat on a bench outside a classroom for the first time in eighty years. 

He hadn’t drawn seriously in decades, probably since before the Battle of New York. The rest had just been little doodles, here and there. Nothing really came from it. But here he was standing in the doorway of a studio, ready for a life drawing class. 

Steve couldn’t understand the nerves racking his body—he was Captain America for crying out loud, he’s been in far worse situations than attending an art class. 

Why on earth couldn’t he bring himself to walk through a silly little doorway? He was pulled from his thoughts by a soft delicate voice. 

‘Excuse me...’ He was pulled from his thoughts by a voice, soft and delicate. His head snapped to the left, his jaw drifting slightly ajar as he took you in. ‘Are you headed inside?’ You were dressed casually, a warm jacket over what was clearly a man’s button down shirt and your jeans had little doodles on the rough denim canvass. Little splats of paint here and there coated the entire look. Steve didn’t know quite why, but he was immediately enticed. 

‘I - uh, yeah. I am, sorry I’m in your way.’ He hastily moved out of the doorway, gesturing for you to enter first but you didn’t make a move as your eyes clearly sized him up and he was thankful he had pulled the dark blue baseball cap low over his brow. It wasn’t much in terms of a disguise but that paired with the thick beard that coated his jaw made it harder for the average person to recognise him.

‘Is this your first drawing class?’ You framed it as a question, but it was clear you already knew the answer.

He nodded a little sheepishly. ‘How could you tell?’

‘You just seem a little nervous. Don’t worry, though. It’s really not as scary as it might seem. I remember when I first signed up, I was terrified that someone would say I wasn’t good enough for the class. I could barely keep my hands steady. So, naturally, that turned out to be one of the worst drawings of my life but no one said a word. You have nothing to worry about - you don’t need to prove yourself here.’ 

‘Anytime, but if you are going to come in I suggest you do it sooner rather than later. Madame Maxine absolutely hates tardiness and it’s nearly seven.’ You gave him a small but genuine smile before you excused yourself, your hips swaying slightly as you walked through the doorway and over to an easel. 

He let out a sigh of relief when you’d left - it gave him some privacy to hype himself up and quiet the inner critic screaming his anxieties.Taking a steadying breath, he followed your footsteps and headed for an unclaimed easel towards the back as the rest of the class made idle chit chat, clearly all familiar with one another as they readied themselves for the lesson.

He rolled out his shoulders before sitting on the small stool, pulling his sketchbook and set of charcoal pencils from his satchel. It was a mixed media class and Steve watched in awe as some people set canvases up on their easels, their palets already covered with various colours of paint. 

He felt woefully underprepared with his worn leather bound sketchbook and collection of pencils, but it was how he had always drawn. His mother had barely been able to afford the splurge for real drawing pencils, nevermind paints or canvases. 

There was a portly man standing in the corner of the room stretching his muscles this way and that, and he figured this must be their model for the day. Most of the drawing Steve had done in the past few years had been of inanimate objects, it was much easier than asking one of his many busy friends to sit still for a few hours as he drew them. If he’d felt more in the mood for a portrait, he generally used photographs as a reference point, so having a real live model would be a nice change.

A few more minutes passed before an elderly woman entered the room. Her hair was grey and her curls frayed out in every direction from the messy bun she has tied it in. She wore a green and yellow bandana around her face keeping her hair away and a matching flowy dress with a dark blue half apron tied around her waist. Immediately, Steve knew this woman had to be Maxine. 

She clapped her hands together, drawing the class’s attention as she neared the front of the room. ‘Good evening, I am Maxine Winnefred and I will be your instructor over the next few weeks as we explore the human form. I recognise some of you from my Summer course focussed on the true form of still life in fruits and flowers, and I would just like to say it’s lovely to see you all again.’ She smiled as her eyes rested on those who must be the familiar faces. 

‘To the new faces in the room, there are a few things you should know about me.While I do understand everyone has lives outside of the art world, tardiness remains unacceptable as a hard and fast rule–especially where live models are concerned. Secondly, whether about your own piece or someone else’s, I will not stand for any negative thoughts. We are all here to learn and the only way you can truly achieve that is with a positive mindset. If you feel negatively about a particular piece of yours, you must think of it as a stepping stone. What did you do wrong? What can you improve on next time? The human form is incredibly complicated and it may take a while getting used to if you’re not familiar with it.’

‘Since you have all elected to pay for the entire course, if for some reason you are unable to make it to a session, I also run a Thursday night class. You must call me and let me know that you will be attending that class as I will need to make sure there are enough easels and stools. I will hand out my number at the end of class. Are there any questions?’ 

Although it had barely been five minutes, Steve could already tell he would enjoy this class, especially being under Maxine’s tutelage. She had a no nonsense air that was rare to find in the art world and despite this being a fairly casual, once a week type of get together, Steve knew she took her work seriously. She wanted all of her pupils to be their best. 

The room fell into silence as her eagle eye flickered around the sea of faces. When moments had passed in silence, she continued. 

‘This is Jerry,’ she held her arm out, becaning the man over. ‘He will be our first model. We will be drawing him for the first two weeks, once with clothes and once without, we will then move onto our next model and the same process will follow.’ Everyone nodded their heads in understanding but Steve felt his cheeks flush slightly. He had known that there would be nude models and he knew that it was all purely professional but still… the small kid from the forties never would have even thought about doing something like this. 

‘Right. Jerry,’ she clapped her hands again, eyes locked on just where her model would go in the scene. ‘If you could please get into position A, we can get started. To the class, we’ll have him sit for an hour and twenty minutes. Then another hour after that with a break in between. Somewhere in there we’ll have a vote on whether or not we would like to see a new pose or the same.’ Maxine checked the time as Jerry found his seating on the lone stool in the front of the room. Once he was in position, she prompted the class to begin.

Although he’d been wanting to avoid detection, Steve was deeply regretting choosing a seat so far from the front. On the surface level, his better than average eyesight would be acceptable - and yet, being the perfectionist that he was, he wanted to get up and close with Jerry. He wanted to be able to mark every tiny blemish on his skin, every line of sadness or laughter.

Steve sighed to himself before he picked up his HB pencil, getting to work on his main outline. He hadn’t been working long when he felt a presence at his shoulder, peering over at his work. He’d just finished the vague outline of Jerry’s clothes and the stool beneath him when she spoke. ‘Back in my day, it was considered rude to wear a hat indoors, Mr…?’

He had to at least try and hide his smile over her words, being at least forty years her senior. 

‘Just Steve.’ Quickly he swiped the cap from his head, placing it down in his satchel on the floor. ‘I’m sorry ma’am.’

‘That’s okay son, just don’t let it happen again.’ She gave him a small smile before setting off, perusing the pieces of the other artists and Steve got back to work. 

+

His neck ached from the awkward position it had been contorted to for the past ninety minutes. He could feel the muscles in his hand beginning their protest. It had been a long time since he’d drawn so intently and he wasn’t used to it quite yet.

He stood from his stool, stretching out his back as he did so, wandering over to the small table of refreshments after a few moments. He swiped a lemon biscuit from the tray, catching sight of you from his periphery. You were gesturing wildly as you chatted up an older fellow. Your face was the picture of sincerity and Steve couldn’t help but smile as he eavesdropped. 

‘One of these days you have to teach me your shading technique, Albert. The way you make a simple shadow have so much depth and colour is incredible,’ you gushed.

‘So long as you teach me how you do the detail work around the eyes. Whenever I try, they just come out looking blank!’ he shot back with a smile on his lips. 

‘It’s a deal.’ You held your hand jokingly Albert took it, shaking it vigorously as you chuckled. Feeling his eyes on you, your head quirked in Steve’s direction and you quickly excused yourself.

Steve tried to busy himself and pretend that he hadn’t been caught awkwardly staring at you but your footsteps were growing closer by the second.

‘So? How are you feeling, newbie? Not as daunting as you thought, huh?’ There was a small teasing smile playing along the corner of your lips and Steve couldn't help but laugh along with you. 

‘I really don’t know why I was so nervous, but what you said… Well, it really helped. So, thank you for that. I assume you took Maxine’s summer course?’ he asked, trying to make conversation.

‘Yeah, it was a fruit and flower class, plus I also took her winter human form class before that. I fell hard for portraits, so I just knew I had to take it again this year.’ Steve nodded in understanding, taking a class this way was the perfect opportunity to work on portraiture. ‘And what about yourself? I may have snuck a peek at your easel. You have an incredible eye from what I can tell. How did you capture such detail in only pencils?’

Steve felt his face heat as he took your compliment. ‘I’m honestly not quite sure, but I’ve had a lot of practice. Growing up, I was bedridden more often than not and my best friend used to come over and sit with me for hours. I probably know his face better than my own.’ He felt the familiar pang that echoed around his heart every time he thought of Bucky and those days that stretched into nights when all he would do was stare at the other man, trying to capture his beauty on the page. Steve forced himself to shake off the memories to try and keep his tone light. He hadn’t intended on saying something so personal but there was just something about you that made him want to let down his guard and that was dangerous. 

‘Really? You were bedridden?’ Your mouth gaped slightly and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes danced slightly down his body. ‘But you look so perfect now - I mean, uh. You look… You look very healthy.’

He smiled, trying not to laugh as dread coated your face. He’s reminded so much of the man he left behind all those years ago…the boy in the back of the car, driving through Brooklyn, although he had to admit, you were far cuter than he had ever been.

‘How long have you been painting for?’ Steve tried to brush the conversation away, he liked talking to you just as a fellow artist and he wasn’t ready for you to recognise him. ‘You’re very talented.’

‘Oh, it’s just sort of a hobby that I do in my spare time. I went to uni and got an Arts degree, but you know how it goes. It only gets you so far in the real world.’ 

‘If you’re not an artist, what do you do for a living?’

‘I’m a secretary at a law firm.’ He nodded trying to maintain control of his thoughts. Being a secretary wasn’t a filler job for a woman any more. Not like it had been in his day. ‘You?’

‘Oh…’ The question took him completely by surprise and his mind went blank. He needed to think fast. ‘I uh… I work for Stark Enterprises. I’m on his PR team.’ Steve tried to justify it in his mind as it wasn’t a complete lie he was a part of the PR team. Plus, he couldn’t have said he was a scientist or something. It would have been clear he was lying if you asked him any type of even remotely science question. 

‘Ah, maybe that’s why you look kind of familiar. Are you a part of his press conferences?’ 

Steve nodded, feeling his throat start to tighten. He wasn’t ready for this to end. Call him selfish, he didn’t want this to end. For someone to treat him as he was, rather than who he was. He hadn’t felt so at home with himself, with someone else, in a long time.

He was saved from further interrogation by the chime of a bell. The ten minute break was up. The group had already opted to keep Jerry in the same reclined pose, so he quickly found his position and the class returned to their sketching. 

While Steve tried to keep his eyes focussed on his drawing, he couldn’t help the constant flicker of his eyes over to where to sat, paintbrush in hand, looking like one of the Greek Muses. 

He only prayed you were one of the merciful ones. 

+


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: a smidge of angst / past heartbreak

II. 

Despite the serum making him run hotter than most, harsh temperatures always managed to seep under his skin. The cold wind nipped at Steve, sending a chill down his spine, he’d spent enough time on ice for one lifetime.

Days like these reminded him of those nights, when he’d tuck in next to Bucky. Most of the time they hadn’t been able to afford heating—when things made a turn for the worse, Bucky would crawl in next to him, cocooning him in his arms, sharing his body warmth. 

Steve had struggled for a long time after the first of those nights. A mixture of emotions has swirled inside him and he had no idea what to do, let alone what to think or how to feel about it. He felt lost.

Bucky was his one constant—the one person he could come to, always. Who could he turn to when he, himself, was the catalyst?

Maybe it was wrong by old world sensibilities. He didn’t see it. He didn’t care, not really. Not when the even beating of Bucky’s heart thumped against his back as he drifted into a peaceful slumber.

It was only years later, during the war when Steve had met Peggy and found that same solace that he had realised what it meant. 

Steve shuddered against the wind, curling himself further into his jacket, trying to wrap it around him tighter as though it would help him purge those memories from his mind. 

He heard a sound before he felt the impact—catching against his chest, it almost clapped against his coat. Digging his hands from his pockets, he grabbed the paper. He could barely make out the heading as the wind kept folding it over, this way and that, obscuring his sight of the blasted thing. 

When he finally managed it, his face broke out into a smile. 

_Calling All Art and Wine Lovers  
Do you love art? Do you also love wine?   
Come down to Roman’s Bar for a night of painting with accompanying wines.   
Entry fee $25. Drinks and easels are supplied but feel free to bring your own._

He skimmed the rest of the flyer to find the first session was happening Monday night. it would only be painting a fruit bowl or something like that, but for some inexplicable reason Steve felt compelled to go. It almost felt like fate that he’d happened upon that flyer. Not that he put much stock into that.

Maybe he could convince Sam to go with him… maybe Bucky? He had always been interested in Steve’s art back in the day. It might even help him feel more like himself. Steve knew he hadn’t been adjusting very well since coming back from Wakanda, since _that_ conversation. The world still felt so new and different and he hardly trusted himself due to his days as the Winter Soldier.

With his mind made up, Steve strolled through the city streets, a new found warmth blooming in his chest and a smile on his face. 

+

‘I’m not sure, Steve. I was never that good at art like you.’ 

It was Sunday evening that Steve had finally decided to broach the idea of drunken painting with Bucky.

‘You don’t have to be, Bucky! That’s why this is so perfect. I can guarantee you it will be a relaxed night of drinking some wine and painting a couple of pieces of fruit. It’ll be fun.’ Steve could see him mulling over his words, his brows pulled close into a frown. 

‘What if they recognise me, though? That’s a great way to ruin everyone’s night.’ 

‘Bucky.’ Steve clasped a hold of the brunet’s shoulder, forcing him to look into his eyes. ‘Everyone knows it wasn’t you in Vienna and everyone knows you weren’t in control for all those years before.’  
It broke his heart to hear his best friend talk so dismissively about himself. He tried not to let it show on his face when Bucky shrugged his hand off of his shoulder. 

‘I think it will be really good for you, getting out, you know? Letting people see the real you. You’re an Avenger, Buck. You can’t hide away forever.’ 

‘I don’t even know who the real me even is anymore.’

‘Then this is a perfect starting point. You can find out if you like drinking wine and painting.’ 

Maybe he was stretching, but he was just so eager to show him the new world. Bucky had to face the fact that if he continued hiding in the shadows, then rumour mill would only continue to turn. 

He was desperate to get his best friend back. Things hadn’t been quite the same since _that_ night. ‘Look, if you hate it, I promise I won’t bug you about going back.’ 

Steve could tell Bucky still wasn’t a hundred percent sold on the idea, but he nodded. ‘Fine I’ll come. Where the hell are you taking me, Rogers?’

+

Despite the near perfect mask Bucky’s face wore, Steve could tell he was nervous. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.’ 

He let out a sigh that turned to a muttered _uh huh_ before stepping forward and pushing open the frosted glass door. 

Steve had no idea what he had been expecting but Roman’s Bar was definitely not it. He couldn’t help but be taken aback. The room was buzzing despite it being a Monday. It looked to be a popular after work hangout for those that lived in the Brooklyn area.

‘Hi there, are you looking for a table for two?’ A handsome man came up to the pair, his voice was deep and flowed like honey. Steve peered at the tag on his chest pocket and read that his name was Miguel. 

‘Uh… I’m sorry. I think there’s been a mistake.’ 

Realisation washed over the man’s face and he nodded in understanding. ‘You’re here for the wine and painting class correct?’ Steve nodded, relieved that he at least wasn’t making a complete fool of himself. ‘Don’t worry, it’s right through here. Most of the painting patrons come in through the side entrance over on J Avenue. I’m sorry for the mistake.’ He led the two men through the heaving crowd and Steve started to get second thoughts. 

He had expected a more elderly crowd, similar to the one at Maxine’s class last week, not young twenty-somethings. Yet when Miguel pushed through a velvet curtain at the back of the room, they were led down a small hallway—Steve could see another door leading out onto the street and assumed this was the entrance Miguel had been talking about. They were led through another frost glass door and he was relieved to see a room much more like the one he had been expecting. 

It was small, cozy, and slightly old fashioned—a complete contrast to the sleek, modern bar he had just left. They’d only just arrived but Steve already felt right at home. Some soothing Jazz was playing from a record player in one corner of the room, completely drowning out the vibing music that had been pumping out on the main floor of the bar.

‘This is Susanne. She’s the lead instructor for tonight. I hope you fine fellows have a pleasant evening.’ As he turned to start heading back to the main room, Steve could have sworn he saw Miguel wink at him and it sent a rush of excitement through him. 

‘Good evening gentlemen. You’re just in time, we were just about to start. The entry fee is $25 each. Will you be paying together or separately?’ Susanne’s voice was soothing and Steve hastily fished a fifty from his pocket. 

‘Together, thank you.’ 

She nodded and took the bill, heading over to a small bar in the back corner of the room. 

‘What can I get for you? Would you like a glass of the house white or red? Other options are available, but at an extra cost.’ 

He shared a look with Bucky before responding. ‘Two of your house reds, thank you.’ 

‘Of course, dearie.’ She pulled two glasses from underneath the counter and uncorked the bottle. The dark red swirled in the glass as she poured.

Steve thanked her again as he and Bucky took their drinks. 

‘If you need a refill at any point just let one of the servers or instructors know. Now it’s nearly eight, so why don’t you grab a seat and we’ll be starting very soon.’ Steve smiled and led Bucky off, searching for a pair of seats together. 

The easels were set up in a semi-circle around a stool with a bowl of fruit. There were only two rows and even though the first wasn’t filled yet, Steve headed for the back row, knowing it would make Bucky more comfortable. 

Once they were all settled in, Steve pulled his sketchbook from his bag and placed it on the easel. Even though the bar had supplied some utensils, he again opted for his own pencils—this time bringing some coloured ones along. 

He could see Bucky’s eyes darting around the room, assessing everything from neighboring faces to points of entry. It had been so long since he’d been able to rest. Steve just wanted to put him at ease or at least offer him some respite to the memories that plagued him.

He sighed at the thought, having more than enough guilt for them both.

The door swung open, catching Steve’s attention. He felt his jaw go slack at the sight.

There you were. You wore the same button down shirt and jeans as last time and Steve figured they must be your painting clothes. You seemed slightly frantic searching through the crowd, more than relieved to find Susanne as she bustled over to you. 

‘I’m so sorry I’m late. Work was hectic, there’s this big case and–’

Susanne cut you off shaking her head with a smile on her face. ‘You don’t have to apologise, darling. You're hardly late, we haven’t even started yet. Just grab a seat and we’ll begin soon.’ You smiled, graciously handing over some cash before taking a seat in the front next to an elderly lady Steve had noticed earlier. 

‘Oh! Darling you’re here!’ The woman greeted you excitedly, leaning over to give you a slight hug. ‘I was worried something had happened, you’re normally so punctual.’

‘It was work.’

‘Is that boss of yours giving you a hard time again? I honestly don’t understand why you don’t tell him where he can stick it and just quit.’

A melodic laugh escaped your lips and your eyes crinkled slightly. You smiled further as one of the servers approached, carrying a glass of shimmering white wine. You thanked her by name as you took it. 

Clearly you were a regular here. 

‘If only, Gladys… but you of all people know how expensive Brooklyn’s gotten to live in.’ 

She hummed in agreement. ‘It’s nothing like it was in my day. But still, you shouldn’t be stuck behind a desk at a job you hate. You should be out there, showcasing your work. It’s truly remarkable.’

‘I don’t hate my job. Besides, I’ve already been down that road, remember? And failed hard.’ Even in his short time of knowing you, Steve could hear the lie on your voice and felt a pang of sadness for you. ‘That’s what led me to Mr. Barber’s company.’ 

Gladys nodded and before she could respond, Susanne stepped up by the stool. 

‘Hello all and welcome to tonight’s ‘Fine Art and Fine Wine’ class. If everyone has what they need, we should be ready to get started.’ She lifted the red cloth from the table, revealing the bowl beneath. It was a clear glass serving bowl that had blue swirls of ink running through it and inside was an arrangement of autumnal fruits—

Pomegranates. Blood oranges. A passion fruit and some figs, all ornately placed.

At first glance, Steve knew it was a perfect arrangement. It was simple enough that some of the beginners in the class would still be able to manage but had some difficult elements that would offer a challenge for the more seasoned artists. 

Brilliant.

Despite the small fragments of chitchat, Steve quickly lost himself to the sketch—capturing the slight green tinge of the passion fruit or the darker hues of pink from the pomegranates. 

It was so soothing, just being able to sit and draw, occasionally taking sips of his wine. Even Bucky looked relaxed. Well, nearly… It’s as close to the word he could manage these days.

The hours had flown by all too soon. Still. Steve felt fairly proud of what he had achieved. It had been a while since he had worked with colour, but he felt he had done a decent job of it. 

‘So what do you think?’ He asked Bucky as he started packing up the pencils, sorting them neatly into their colours. 

‘It was actually okay. I… I had fun.’ Steve looked about ready to pull a muscle in his face with how hard Bucky’s words had him smiling. ‘Don’t start.

‘I didn’t say a word,’ he defended, hands raised in fealty. ‘You just need to be willing to try and put yourself out there. I know it’s hard, but you’ll always have me.’ 

Maybe it was still too soon. Too fresh after _that_ conversation. 

He quickly averted his gaze back to his drawing. Steve felt a pang in his heart and continued to silently pack up, trying desperately not to think back to that night when Bucky had first returned to the tower.

+

Steve found himself shivering as he stood out on the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to touch down. 

He knew rationally that Bucky still had a long road of recovery ahead of him. He knew this. It didn’t stop Steve from being so relieved to have him here. To have him home.

Maybe this time around, _Steve_ would be the one to be Bucky’s protector. And maybe, once he was ready… If he was ever ready.

Steve hated himself for thinking so selfishly, but he couldn’t help but hold onto that hope. 

Hope that in these new modern times, he and Bucky might actually have a chance. 

He had greeted Bucky and quickly shown him inside, guiding him through the multiple hallways and staircases until they reached his new apartment. 

Steve had made sure it was the one next to his own, wanting him to be as close as possible. He had even gone so far as to temporarily move out of his apartment in Brooklyn for this.

He’d wanted to stick around, help him settle in but when Bucky told him all he wanted to do was sleep, exhausted from the flight as he was, Steve relented.

Later, they said.

Another day, they said… 

Only that day never came. 

Over the coming weeks, Steve quickly noticed Bucky was avoiding him. 

While he was quiet most of the time with the others, he didn’t find some excuse to leave the room whenever they entered like he did with Steve. At first, he just thought Bucky needed time to adjust. 

He gave him time. 

He gave him space. 

But a couple months down the road, they were well into summer with no mention of the rift between them. 

He made sure to wait him out until he knew with certainty that Bucky was back from dinner with Sam.

When he heard his familiar rustling the next room over, he tried to push away the pain that things had fallen so off course. _Steve_ hadn’t even been to dinner with him yet.

He glanced at the mirror, taking himself in. Despite the heavy bags that lined the underneath of his eyes, he felt that he had managed to look at least a bit presentable. A final nod before heading out for the night. A final breath before blowing his reality to bits.

He pads next door and knocks.

When the answer came swiftly, Bucky didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked as if he’d been expecting him.

‘Come on in.’

‘Your head’s gonna combust if you keep all that fire locked up in there. Say your piece and it just might bring you some.’

‘I thought… I thought things were better.’ 

‘Things are better. _I’m_ better. But you—’

‘Then what is it? Tell me what’s going on,’ he begs over him. ‘I can feel you pulling away. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. Please, Buck. Help me understand.’

He was quiet for a beat, just watching Steve come down from getting so worked up. It gave him time to collect himself, collect his thoughts… 

‘I know what you want from me. I take one look at you and I know… but I’m not him.’ Steve looked about ready to argue but Bucky raised his hand, begging to finish. ‘You wanted to understand. I’ll never be the same man I was back then and being around you, being with you? It’s painful, Steve. It’s a constant reminder of what was taken from me and how I’ll never be the same.’ 

‘You can’t say things like that. It’s not true.’

‘Don’t you think it hurts me that I can’t be that for you?’ He gestured all around the room, never wavering. ‘That we could have all of this together and call it a day… Don’t you think I want that rest?’

‘We can work through it. We’ve been through so much together.’ Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, so ready to contest that he doesn’t have to feel the same. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered—he still loved him. ‘We can get through this, too.’

‘Steve…’ Bucky could tell just how painful this was for him but he knew it needed to be said, it needed to be done. ‘There was a time I loved you so much I’d have fought a whole war for you. Love and war… that’s not something you get out of. I’m still fighting.’ 

Face buried in his hands, Steve swiped at the tears that stained his hot and itching cheeks.

‘Please, Buck… don’t say it. I love you. Here and now. I don’t care about the rest of it,’ he murmured desperately into his palms. ‘I _love_ you.’

‘I know.’

Both men sat in their defeat as the confession faded into silence.

‘He’s gone. I can’t be him and we can’t be together. I know it’s hard but please, please, don’t hate me. You mean so much to me.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought just because you were here with me now—it doesn’t mean anything. I could never hate you. And I would never want to see you in pain… But I can’t just leave you, knowing you’re out there alone as me.’ He drags a hand through his hair, looking anywhere else. ‘We were friends, best friends. We could go back to that, couldn’t we?’

‘Of course, punk.’ He clapped his back and hoped it wasn’t too much, too soon. ‘Best friends.’ 

Even as his heart was breaking, Steve managed a small smile. It was a far cry from ideal, but if it kept Bucky in his life, he was prepared to bite the bullet if that’s what it took. 

Despite the smiles and promises, things would never be the same after that. Not really… 

+


End file.
